Surreal Surfaces
by Blueskullz
Summary: No one could see the boy flying high up above the sky, cackling as he swiped his staff across in a wide arc to create several gusts of wind blow down clumps of dry snow. The boy himself, could not see the hand that held that staff (Or: Jack can't see his own reflections and its up to the guardians to help him) A/N: starts from the beginning of the movie, Rated T for swearing maybe.


Chapter 1

* * *

The boy remembered the first time he woke up, though the memory was mostly vague.

The ice shattered, revealing the full orb above, and the moon, its voice as soft as air and as fresh as newly fallen snow had told him, '_Jack Frost_.' Whatever the reason was, the boy beneath the watery depth had _known_ that those two words were his own name. Ripples moved around Jack as he was thrust with a gentle push out of the water and into the open air. Beneath him, the gaping hole closed with a thick layer of ice and Jack was settled down.

_New_.

That was the word to describe everything he saw. White blanketed the terrain and underfoot was a fine surface of solid water. He took a deep breath and sighed when the scent of snow rushed through his lungs. It left a strange feeling of bliss within him. A curious smile adorning his face, he surveyed his surroundings and started when his foot connected with a piece of wood. Beneath his foot lay a... a staff. Bending down, Jack cocked his head at it and pursed his lips, lifting a hesitant finger up to poke along the grainy surface of the wood. Spinning frost textured itself along the object at the contact and Jack's eyes widened as he poked it once more to make sure that it wasn't just his imagination. Again, frost picked at the dips and bumps along the staff.

Grinning in surprised delight, Jack picked up the staff and twirled it in his grip. Frost bloomed beneath his palm and it felt _familiar _and somehow _right_ and- _Woah_. More frost spiraled along the ice when the blunt end of the staff had tapped on it. Jack blinked at it and stood, eyeing the crooked stick in his hands with awe. Biting his lips in a smile, Jack pranced up and around the icy pond, dragging the end behind himself. Turning, he laughed as he saw how the frost trailed out behind -not only from his staff, but from his feet as well- and yelped in surprise when the wind picked up Jack.

_Woah_.

Tumbling through the air, Jack clutched at his staff -because the staff _was _his- and went along where the wind took him while whooping all the way. Not with a warning, the wind deposited him near the trees and Jack cried out as he dropped through branches and foliage, his brown cloak and clad pants keeping him from damage. Reaching out, his arms found a large branch, and Jack scrambled on as soon as he realized that he wasn't dropping lower anytime soon. He perched and curled his toes on the bark and saw- _oh!_ There were glowing lights, a bit further off in the distance. Grinning, Jack hopped up from his crouch and the wind, as he had expected, had caught him, guiding him to the distant village as he had hoped it would.

* * *

The village was bustling and quite warm despite the gusts that made the fire in the center dance. Soft chattering of others speaking amongst themselves, floated in the air, drifting almost lazily.

Jack lightly stepped off the wind with a chuckle and silently thanked it, adjusting his hair and his cloak to look more presentable for the people.

Jack strutted along the village, shoulders held up high and staff on his shoulders. He waved along the passing folks calling out to random strangers with shouts of, '_Hello ma'am._' or '_Good afternoon sir_.' A young boy was sprinting his way and Jack grinned, pausing to crouch in the way of the kid, 'Hey, uh, excuse me. Could you maybe tell me where-'

And then the kid ran through him.

Jack gasped, clutching at his chest where a sudden stab of pain blossomed and disappeared as soon as it came. His eyes widened, grip on his staff faltering.

_What?_

He stood up, and his gaze flit from one person to another. He tried to catch their attention with shouting and wavering calls, but only succeeded in stumbling through their figures and trying to catch a needed breath through his too tight lungs.

_No. No. No no no no no!_

Spinning in his place, still clutching at his pounding ache, Jack ran and took a leap into the air, letting the wind grab him and take him away, _get him away_, from the people. He struggled to take in a breath as his chest constricted and as the wind laid his feet gently down on the glassy surface of the pond Jack was first awakened at. Fingers twitched on his cloak as he crumpled in on himself and curled into a tight ball. The wind howled and twisted around him as if asking what the matter was. It wasn't cold. Not at all. Still, his thin frame shivered violently as the wind tried to sooth the storm in the boy's mind.

Confusion, shock, dawning realization, and questions. All of which was roiling up into the most messiest tempest and raging on in Jack's spirit.

_Who was he?_

Jack Frost. That was who he was, right?

_Why couldn't anyone see him?_

Nobody could see him, didn't even hear his cries. Like- like he was a ghost. Or, like he wasn't even there. Like _Jack Frost_, did not even exist. He was real, right?

Doubt, the tiniest bit wove through his thoughts and tightly knotted themselves inside his confusion, sewing his questions to an irrational, yet believable answer and stabbing themselves through Jack in the most pin pricking manner.

_Jack Frost _couldn't be his name. A ghost couldn't have a name. _No_, he was not even a ghost. He existed by himself in his own dimension. A world apart from everything and everyone else. He could see their world, yet they couldn't see his. He was invisible, intangible,not there, _unreal_.

He wasn't Jack Frost. Couldn't be. An existence that did not exist wouldn't have a name.

Lifting his forehead from the glassy surface, he stared at the ice. It mirrored the surrounding trees, silhouette of the sky and clouds, and where he was supposed to be, shined the moon, full and bright and _taunting_. Where the boy was, there lay empty space. Fear gripped his center and choked him.

_Unreal. Not there. Not here._

Gripping his staff with a vice grip, Jack dropped back into a curl and cried as loud as his voice throat let him, tears streaming from his eyes and freezing at his chin.

* * *

It was after that day when some things were made clear.

The boy undoubtedly knew that he was there. Not as a full existence, but as a crystallized fragment.

He could not see himself, yet, he could hear his own voice, and could feel himself. Though he could not see his own body, he somehow could sense where his hands, feet, and limbs would be. A blue aura would sometimes even line his hand which held his staff, but only when he held onto his staff.

He was there, but he was not present.

He was somebody, but was not _a_ somebody.

And that was okay, or so the child liked to think it was.

Soon, time passed and months turned into a year. A year turned to ten, and ten turned to a century. The boy learned how to control his frost and how to create large flurries in the lands beyond and further on his point.

During some weeks, the boy would have a vague sensation that he was missing something. Something important. It was probably his missing figure, the lack of reflection at the passing windows or the empty space in front of him where he would sometimes lift his hands up in.

But he knew, that it was more than that.

Perhaps, if he had tried to remember, he would have known that more than his own physical structure, he was missing something crucial. He was missing the base and the pillars to build his own existence. He was missing a _name_. But, the boy hadn't ever tried to remember (he didn't _have_ one), and if ever the feeling of wrongness nagged at the back of his spine, where the neck met his skull, the boy made a point to ignore it until he could feel it no more.

* * *

**This story idea was practically _stuck_ to my head since days and days on end and- It. Would. Not. Get. Off. Dammit. I tried reading a lot of other Rotg fanfics to see if anyone else had tried out this idea, but so far, I haven't found anything yet : And yes, this is just -somewhat- the prologue or the preview of the story.**

**The idea of not believing in yourself therefore not being able to see yourself in reflections appealed to me much. Yet, in contrast, you _know_ that you're there. No doubt. But at the same time, you're _not_. Oh my, I'm over-circuiting my brain. *wheezes*_  
_**

**This isn't my first fanfic I've written, but it's my first I'm publishing on :) I would really love to see what everyone thinks.**

**Should I continue? No? And yes, if I do continue, it will be longer, I assure you that :D**


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